


I'm No Juliet (But Will You Be My Romeo?)

by fuzipenguin



Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: Angst and Feels, Cowgirl Position, Cuddling & Snuggling, Established Relationship, M/M, Other, Secret Relationship, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Valve Oral (Transformers), cross faction relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:55:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22069633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuzipenguin/pseuds/fuzipenguin
Summary: Bumblebee thinks he knows where he stands with Knock Out, but even he can be surprised sometimes.
Relationships: Bumblebee/Knock Out
Comments: 20
Kudos: 158
Collections: Secret Solenoid '19-'20





	I'm No Juliet (But Will You Be My Romeo?)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Drift](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drift/gifts).



> Request: TFP, Bumblebee/Knockout; before Predacon Rising, so KO is still a 'Con and they have a secret affair & meet up at night at a secret place (possible NSFW sticky?)

Many people think Bumblebee is an optimistic and cheerful mech.

And he _is_ pretty upbeat in general, but over the millennia, he’s learned mannerisms that purposively reinforce that impression even when he feels the opposite. Unless he wants to take advantage of a well-timed pout, that is. He’s been trained by some of the best SpecOps mechs in existence so when Optimus catches him at the hangar door, he widens his optics a fraction and lets his doorwings sag a little.

But not too much. He doesn’t want to come across as suicidal… only a little down. He tells Prime that he needs to ‘get out of his head’ and he won’t drive far. He’s only just a ground bridge away, after all.

Prime stares down at him, sad slant to his optics which Bumblebee hates. He doesn’t _like_ that he’s lying to his leader but he hates that Optimus has no one to go to like Bumblebee does when things start to build up.

Not that who Bumblebee goes to doesn’t have its own headaches.

Optimus lets him leave with some cautionary words and then slowly and regally strides back into the main room. For once, someone must have convinced Ratchet to take a break, because Bumblebee hasn’t seen him for several hours. For all he knows, maybe Ratchet’s holed up with one of the others, getting a little relief of his own. Why he and Optimus, close for longer than Bumblebee’s been alive, don’t get together is mystifying, but he doesn’t meddle.

At least not with something like that.

Despite his somewhat eye-catching markings, he’s ignored by local law enforcement because he obeys every rule in the book and even drives two miles below the speed limit. And once he reaches the abandoned iron plant, he transforms and melts into the shadows to sneak up on the mech who awaits him.

He pauses a moment, partially hidden behind a pockmarked wall. Bumblebee takes the opportunity to study the figure lounging against the raised platform of the loading dock, gaze roving over every inch of the confident frame. Knock Out seems oblivious to his presence, idly examining the plating on his left arm under a ray of moonlight streaming in through a hole in the ceiling. His crimsons and whites gleam softly in the dim light, highlighting the breadth of his shoulders and the delectable trim waist.

“Are you just going to stand and stare or are you going to get over here?” Knock Out drawls suddenly, attention still on his arm.

Not so oblivious after all. Bumblebee heaves a sigh; his trainers would be so disappointed in him right now.

:: What gave me away? :: he asks, stepping out from behind the wall and ambling over. Knock Out finally raises his head, lips curved in a smirk.

“I can always tell when I’ve caught the optic of an admirer.”

:: Oh, I’m not admiring, :: Bumblebee retorts cockily. :: I’m looking for weaknesses so I can take you down. ::

Knock Out tilts his head back, smirk widening as Bumblebee comes within reach. He quickly darts an arm out and hooks several fingers up under the yellow chestplate, reeling him in. Bumblebee allows it, neatly stepping into Knock Out’s space as the other mech straightens up out of his slouch.

“A ‘takedown’, is it? You really think you can take me, Little Bug?” Knock Out purrs, optics slitted as he peers down his nasal ridge at Bumblebee. He’s only a few inches taller, but he likes to take advantage of it any chance he gets.

Bumblebee doesn’t mind. He’s heavier… sturdier. They’re equally fast, but Bumblebee can take a punch better than his lover.

And he’s not afraid to scuff his paint to do so.

:: Would you let me? :: Bumblebee replies, his hands resting on Knock Out’s hips.

It always takes a second or two to relax out of his instinctive rigidity in the presence of someone who is technically an enemy, but once he does, Bumblebee melts against Knock Out’s front. He nuzzles the other mech’s jaw, optics slipping partway closed as the fresh scent of a citrusy wax rises up to tickle his nasal sensors.

“I might. Depends on what you’re going to do with me once you have me,” Knock Out murmurs, tilting his head to the side to allow Bumblebee room. He brushes his lips against Bumblebee’s cheek before reaching up and tapping at his mouthguard.

“Down, please. I’ve had a rough day, and I want a kiss.”

Bumblebee obliges him, eagerly tilting his head up so their mouths align. Knock Out faintly moans as soon as their lips touch and moments later Bumblebee’s spun around and pressed up against the platform, the edge digging into his lower back. He barely notices, too focused on running his hands along Knock Out’s frame in order to find the spots that produce more delightful sounds when caressed.

Knock Out whimpers when Bumblebee sucks on the other mech’s glossa, a shudder running through him. Spurred on by the reaction, Bumblebee reaches up and grasps Knock Out’s left tire, fingers digging in between the sensitive spokes.

“You… fight dirty…” Knock Out gasps, throwing his head back. Bumblebee immediately attacks his throat with sharp nips, enjoying the heat of Knock Out pressed against him. They’re both racers and tend to run hot, but somehow Knock Out always seems a degree or two warmer, a heat which makes Bumblebee’s energon lines tingle.

:: It’s what I do best, :: Bumblebee says smugly, smothering a yelp as Knock Out suddenly dips a hand between them and cups his interface array.

“What you do best… is spread these lovely thighs for me,” Knock Out growls. He slides his hand farther back and out, yanking Bumblebee’s right leg off the floor. He automatically hooks it on Knock Out’s hip, the other mech slotting between his thighs and grinding their panels together. “Open… please.”

Knock Out rarely ever asks nicely. Normally it’s innuendo and pretend threats. It really _must_ have been a rough day at the Nemesis. So Bumblebee obliges him again, his cover transforming out of the way. Knock Out immediately grabs the backs of Bumblebee’s thighs and hoists him up enough so that his aft rests on the very edge of the platform. Without saying another word, Knock Out drops to his knees and buries his face in the vee of Bumblebee’s legs.

Bumblebee’s vocalizer whispers out a hoarse shout as a hot glossa slips between his folds and curls under his anterior rim. It presses against the tiny line of nodes there before withdrawing and swiping across the larger external nub. Knock Out’s lips wrap around it and he lightly sucks, batting at Bumblebee’s hands when they automatically reach out to grip the back of Knock Out’s head.

Whimpering, Bumblebee drops his weight backwards onto his elbows, neck craned so he can watch Knock Out’s helm dip and bob as he works Bumblebee over. His mouth is so skilled that it’s not long before Bumblebee feels himself creeping towards overload. He shakily lifts his right leg and taps Knock Out’s shoulder before letting his pede drop onto the platform with a thud.

:: I’m going to overload. All over your face. You know how messy I get, :: Bumblebee warns.

Knock Out is somewhat of a neat freak and while he takes pride in making Bumblebee overload multiple times during their time together, he tends to shy away from the actual mess of it. Bumblebee produces _a lot_ of lubricant when aroused; it’s already pooling beneath his aft, leaking too steadily for Knock Out to lick it up.

:: I know. Go ahead, :: Knock Out replies, redoubling his efforts. His lips suction harder and two fingers slip their way inside Bumblebee, crooking upwards to maddeningly rub over those tiny, sensitive nodules.

The explicit permission sends a little thrill through Bumblebee’s core. It reaches the tight ball of tension at the base of his spinal strut and ignites it into exploding. His entire body stiffens, pelvis thrust upwards in order to get as much contact as possible with Knock Out’s sinful glossa.

He thinks he might flail a bit; when he comes back to himself, he’s a little farther up the platform than he had been originally. Bumblebee’s head is still fuzzy so all he can do is stare when Knock Out hoists himself up over the edge and crawls closer on hands and knees, straddling Bumblebee’s limp frame.

“Good?” Knock Out purrs. He leans over and lightly traces the tip of his nasal ridge down Bumblebee’s cheek. It’s a wet path and Bumblebee finally regains some strength in order to arch up and capture that tempting mouth, the lips warm and slippery with Bumblebee’s own lubricants. He tastes himself on his lover’s glossa, tiny zips of lingering charge making his own oral cavity tingle.

:: You know it was, :: Bumblebee returns, reaching out and grasping Knock Out’s hips. :: What’s the occasion? Just felt like getting messy? ::

Knock Out’s not dripping, but when he draws back, Bumblebee can see smears of lubricant shimmering across his nasal ridge, chin, and even a little on his forehelm. His optics have darkened to something closer to a rich wine color, his expression bordering on wild. Bumblebee realizes Knock Out is trembling, the vibrations of it moving up his fingers and into his arms. It’s odd; Knock Out prides himself on a variety of things and control is one of them. Bumblebee can’t tell if this is a measure of his desirability… or if something has bothered Knock Out enough to loosen his iron grip.

Sadly, Bumblebee is starting to think the latter. 

“Something like that. And now there’s another part of your frame that I’d like to pay attention to,” Knock Out says, slipping out of Bumblebee’s grasp. He retreats until he’s hovering over Bumblebee’s pelvis, meeting his optics with a smirk. “Is this for me, Little Bug?”

Knock Out’s long, thin fingers of his right hand wrap around Bumblebee’s spike and lightly squeezes. His left hand dips between his own legs, into the shadow between his thighs. The smirk widens when Bumblebee wheezes out a grunt and stares up at Knock Out with wide optics.

Bumblebee doesn’t really have a preference, and had assumed Knock Out didn’t like to be spiked. This is the first time Knock Out has even hinted at allowing penetration by anything other than Bumblebee’s glossa. And even then, he hadn’t let Bumblebee overload him, but rather directed him back to his spike.

Well, tonight was just full of surprises, wasn’t it?

“I rather think it is,” Knock Out says to himself, staring down the length of his own frame. He idly watches his hand move until Bumblebee’s hips start to restlessly shift under the attention. Then he shuffles forward a few inches before lowering himself down onto Bumblebee’s spike.

Lips parting slightly, Knock Out’s optics go a little unfocused as his aft meets Bumblebee’s thighs. He sits there for a moment before his hips move in a slow, sensual figure eight, engine revving up a gear.

“Mmmm… I should have done this ages ago,” Knock Out murmurs, tentatively raising himself up and back down. He feels hot and tight and Bumblebee has the urge to grab Knock Out’s aft and slam him down until he’s buried to the hilt.

:: Why haven’t you? :: Bumblebee asks curiously, sliding his hands up the outside of Knock Out’s silky smooth thighs instead.

“We’re not all as trusting as you are, Bee,” Knock Out sighs, getting into more of a rhythm. It’s a good rhythm, Bumblebee admits. And Knock Out looks so gorgeous in his lap, striped by rays of moonlight streaming in through the ceiling. Bumblebee can’t help but move his hands up and clasp them over Knock Out’s where they rest on Bumblebee’s chest.

When he squeezes the slender fingers, Knock Out raises an orbital ridge. He tugs his hands free, and Bumblebee experiences a pang of disappointment, but it’s short lived. Knock Out leans forward, hips still working, and rests his forehelm against Bumblebee’s.

“Don’t go soft on me now, Little Bug,” Knock Out whispers in warning, intimately staring into Bumblebee’s optics. Bumblebee gazes back and lays a hand on Knock Out’s hip.

There’s something tentative unfurling here, Bumblebee senses.

Knock Out’s not great with anything other than sarcasm and barbed compliments. To speak of what lies so fragile between them could potentially break it if Knock Out’s not ready. So Bumblebee resorts back to the banter that has served them so well in the past.

:: Do I feel soft to you? :: Bumblebee asks, taking hold of Knock Out’s waist and bucking upwards. Knock Out’s vents stutter and his valve cycles down around Bumblebee’s spike every so deliciously. Leering, Knock Out pushes himself upright, caressing a hand across his bumper. Behind the lust, there’s relief in Knock Out’s optics, and Bumblebee knows he made the right decision.

For now, at least.

Knock Out rides Bumblebee more roughly, alternatively leaning back and supporting himself on Bumblebee’s knees or hovering over his chest, weight resting on his palms. His optics quickly slip closed and Bumblebee indulges himself in unabashedly watching the other mech steadily bounce atop his spike. If Knock Out feels the laser like attention he claims he always can… he doesn’t comment on it.

The focus on his far too attractive partner puts Bumblebee closer to the edge than he would like to be, but he can’t force himself to look away. He staves off overload for as long as possible, his previous climax helping some. But Knock Out’s frame is silky and warm and he smells good enough that Bumblebee wouldn’t mind licking every inch of him. It’s inevitable that the tight clasp of Knock Out’s calipers eventually pull the transfluid up out of Bumblebee’s tank in several strut-shaking pulses that leave him limp and panting.

Knock Out must have been waiting for Bumblebee to finish because shortly after, his riding motions turn into more of a grind. His mouth falls open as steam starts wisping up along his armor seams, vents open full bore and pouring heat. His hand creeps downwards but Bumblebee beats him to it, shaky fingers finding Knock Out’s slippery anterior node and lightly rubbing it.

Whining behind clenched denta, Knock Out shudders, his hand digging into his own thigh instead. He tilts his hips just so and barely three seconds later, he overloads with a jerk of his entire frame. Bumblebee raptly watches the expression of bliss that spreads over Knock Out’s face as he circles his pelvis with little twitchy movements, seeking out the last bits of dispersing charge.

Then he doesn’t so much as collapse as tilt forward and fold inwards on himself until he’s lying atop Bumblebee’s chest. It’s such a smooth motion that Bumblebee doesn’t even realize it’s happening until he has a happily purring racer sprawled out on top of him. Bumblebee cautiously winds his arms around the other mech’s waist, and Knock Out melts even more, helm tucking up under Bumblebee’s chin. It puts his head at an uncomfortable angle, but Bumblebee doesn’t complain. Not when he’s getting snuggles from a notoriously prickly mech who has always managed to be standoffish even when interfacing.

They lay there for several minutes, engines ticking as they cool down. Bumblebee slowly goes soft and he feels droplets of moisture gathering in the dip of his pelvis as it drips out of Knock Out. He’s a little surprised that Knock Out hasn’t pushed himself away by now, clamoring for a clean-up.

:: I’m sorry you had a bad day, :: Bumblebee dares. It’s what he assumes has prompted the deviations from the norm of their previous encounters.

Knock Out doesn’t reply for a long moment and Bumblebee wonders if he has fallen into recharge. Then he shifts as if moving to get more comfortable. He resettles with a small sigh.

“… you weren’t a bad way to end it,” Knock Out says magnanimously. Bumblebee grins up at the ceiling. Score one for the Bumblebee!

:: You know, we could end it together more frequently if… ::

Knock Out blindly reaches up and smacks Bumblebee across the face. “Don’t ruin it, Bee. Just… just be quiet and let me have this.”

He’s trembling again. Without even thinking about the consequences, Bumblebee brings a hand up to cup the back of Knock Out’s helm and he holds the other mech tighter across his lower back. Knock Out doesn’t do anything but scrunch down further as if trying to meld with him.

It’s… really nice. More than Bumblebee has ever dared to hope for. He feels something in his own frame loosen, his spark feeling warm and bubbly.

:: As long as you want, :: Bumblebee says earnestly. :: I promise. ::

“… don’t be stupid,” Knock Out says wearily. “Promises are for sparklings. Now shut up.”

Bumblebee obliges him, knowing that they’re skirting the edges of Knock Out’s comfort zone. Sometimes Bumblebee wants to really push that boundary instead of the occasional gentle nudges he gives it, but he’s patient.

Minutes turn into an hour and Knock Out shows no sign of moving. Thinking he has fallen into recharge, Bumblebee is extra careful not to jostle the other mech when trying to relieve a pinched line in his thigh. But Knock Out proves he’s not asleep when he sighs irritably.

“Had to go and ruin it, didn’t you?” he grouses, laboriously pushing himself upright. By now, Bumblebee’s spike has completely receded and his cover has slid closed. When Knock Out leans back, Bumblebee can see that the white thighs are shining from more than just wax.

Knock Out rests on the heels of his pedes and surveys himself with a frown. “As a doctor, I feel I should check your fluid levels and perhaps supplement them. Do you have anything left in your frame at all?”

Bumblebee sits up and draws his legs out to the side so he can roll up onto his knees. With a quick bounce, he jumps off the platform and straightens. Knock Out watches him over his shoulder with a raised orbital ridge as Bumblebee bows and holds out a hand, indicating for him to spin around.

Pretending to be put out is second nature to Knock Out and this is no exception. He rolls his optics and ever so slowly arranges himself at the edge of the platform. Just when he goes to push off, Bumblebee leans forward and places a restraining hand on Knock Out’s closest knee.

:: I have plenty left. I could go all night if I needed to, :: Bumblebee says with a playful wink. Withdrawing a small pack of pre-moistened wipes from subspace, he spreads Knock Out’s thighs apart. Then he proceeds to clean the mess away from Knock Out’s pelvis and upper legs, gently smoothing the cloth over the swollen valve lips last.

:: There. I’d take you to a car wash but… :: Bumblebee says apologetically, tucking both the dirty and clean clothes back into subspace. He’ll hit up a dumpster on the way back to base. Raf had given them all a _very_ passionate lecture about littering only a few weeks ago and Bumblebee had taken it to spark.

“Can’t be seen together, I know.” Knock Out’s panel cover slides shut as he bemusedly studies Bumblebee.

:: Well, that… and it’s bad enough some humans know about us. I would rather they not get a peek at your interface bits. :: Bumblebee remarks. :: …as pretty as they are. ::

He’s smiles, and Knock Out’s face goes suddenly blank. Just as he’s about to ask what’s wrong, Knock Out stands and throws himself at Bumblebee. He tenses for a fraction before quickly hugging Knock Out back, engine instinctively shifting into a low rumble that he uses to soothe Raf when he’s upset or nervous.

:: Hey. Hey, what is it? :: Bumblebee automatically scans his surroundings but the deserted lot is as empty as when he had first entered it.

“I don’t want to go back,” Knock Out says, the words muffled against Bumblebee’s neck.

:: Oh. That bad of a day, huh? :: Bumblebee asks. He holds Knock Out tighter remembering times they’d been together where a fresh coat of paint hadn’t been able to hide the dents from large fists. :: Don’t worry, we can stay a little longer. ::

“No, Bumblebee.” Knock Out draws back and looks desperately at him, optics wet and wide. “I don’t want to go back… ever.”

Bumblebee’s spark skips a beat.

:: Ev… _ever_? Like… _defect_ , ever?! ::

Despite being on an internal comm, his volume dips down as if Megatron could still hear him half a continent away.

“I can’t… there’s nothing _there_ for me anymore,” Knock Out says in a rush. “Megatron is a megalomaniac, Starscream has such ridiculous delusions of grandeur… I can’t even begin to tell you how much Soundwave freaks me out, and the Vehicons are so… so… brainless! I don’t even know what we’re fighting for anymore! I stayed for Breakdown because _he_ believed, but…”

His distress is painful to witness. So Bumblebee places his hands on Knock Out’s shoulders, rises on the tips of his pedes, and bunts his forehelm against the Decepticon’s.

:: Ok. Ok, I understand, :: Bumblebee says soothingly, staring into Knock Out’s optics from a few inches away.

It’s instinct to reassure him, but Bumblebee is also feeling a rising giddiness. Some of their previous banter has been about Knock Out’s defection, but Bumblebee never thought the other mech had actually been considering it. If he can get Knock Out to leave the Decepticons…

:: You always have a home with us. You always have a home with _me_. ::

Knock Out jerks backwards, covering his mouth with a choked off sob. He waves a hand at Bumblebee, half-heartedly glaring at him.

“A ‘home’! Only an Autobot would say that. What even _is_ a home anymore? What’s left besides a decrepit planet infested with ghosts?” he exclaims.

Bumblebee steps forward and uses both of his hands to engulf Knock Out’s. :: A home isn’t a place. It’s wherever you are… as long as you have the people you love with you, :: he says earnestly.

Knock Out shivers once and then goes still, his expression turning despairing. “I… I don’t l-love you… I… I’m _fond_ of… but…”

Bumblebee tightens his grip, smiling reassuringly. Knock Out has never said what the particulars of his relationship with Breakdown were. Bumblebee’s never asked, but he knows the two were very close. He doesn’t want to replace Breakdown, but he needs Knock Out to know Bumblebee will always be there for him.

:: That’s ok. You don’t want to kill me anymore, so that’s a big first step. And hey… I’m pretty adorable. Give it time, yeah? ::

Knock Out stares at him for a frighteningly long second before giving a short nod and then dissolving into giggles. It’s slightly hysterical, but Bumblebee will take it. He gathers the other mech into his arms again, gently rocking them back and forth as Knock Out clings to him.

:: Uh, Prime? :: Bumblebee hesitantly sends to his leader over a private communication line. :: **I have something important I need to discuss with you…** ::

~ End


End file.
